Kitabı oku: «The Protector», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XIX – VANE FORESEES TROUBLE

Nairn was sitting at a writing-table when Vane entered his room, and after a few questions about his journey, he handed the younger man one of the papers that lay in front of him.

“It’s a report from the mine,” he said.

Vane carefully studied the document.

“It only brings us back to our last conversation on the subject,” he remarked when his host glanced at him inquiringly. “We have the choice of going on as we are doing, or extending our operations by an increase of capital. In the latter case, our total earnings might be larger, but I hardly think there would be as good a return on the money actually sunk. Taking it all round, I don’t know what to think; but if it appeared that there was a moral certainty of making a satisfactory profit on the new stock, I should consent.”

Nairn chuckled. “A moral certainty is no a very common thing in mining.”

“I believe Horsfield’s in favour of the scheme. How far would you trust that man?” Vane inquired.

“About as far as I could fling a bull by the tail. The same thing applies to both of them.”

“He has some influence. He’d find supporters.”

Nairn saw that the meaning of his last remark which implied that he had no more confidence in Jessie than he had in her brother, had not been grasped by his companion, but he did not consider it judicious to make it plainer. Instead, he gave Vane another piece of information: “Horsfield and Winter work into each other’s hands.”

“But Winter has no interest in the Clermont.”

Nairn smiled sourly. “He holds no shares in the mine, but there’s no much in the shape of mineral developments yon man has no an interest in. Since ye do not seem inclined to yield Horsfield a point or two, it might pay ye to watch the pair of them.”

Vane, who was aware that Winter was a person of some importance in financial circles, remained silent for a couple of minutes. “Now,” he said, at length, “every dollar we have in the Clermont is usefully employed and earning a satisfactory profit. Of course, if we put the concern on the market, we might get more than it is worth from investors; but that doesn’t greatly appeal to me.”

“It’s unnecessary to point out that a director’s interest is no invariably the same as that of his shareholders,” Nairn rejoined.

“It’s an unfortunate fact. But I’d be no better off if I only got the same actual return on a larger amount of what would be watered stock.”

“There’s sense in that. I’m no urging the scheme – there are other points against it,” answered Nairn.

“Well,” said Vane, “I’ll go up and look round the mine and then we’ll have another talk about the matter.”

They changed the subject, but Vane walked back to his hotel in a thoughtful frame of mind, and finding Carroll in the smoking-room related his conversation with Nairn.

“I’m a little troubled about the situation,” he concluded. “The Clermont finances are now on a sound basis, but it might after all prove advantageous to raise further capital, and in such a case we would, perhaps, lie open to attack. Nairn’s inclined to be cryptic in his remarks; but he seems to hint that it would be advisable to make Horsfield some concession – in other words, to buy him off.”

“Which is a course you have objections to?”

“Yes,” said Vane, “very decided ones.”

“I think that, in a general way, Nairn’s advice is sensible. Where mining and other schemes are floated, there are men who make a good living out of the operations. They’re trained to the business; they’ve control of the dollars; and when a new thing’s put on the market, they consider they’ve the first claim on the pickings.”

“You needn’t elaborate the point,” Vane broke in impatiently.

“You made your appearance in this city as a poor and unknown man with a mine to sell,” Carroll went on. “Disregarding tactful hints, you laid down your terms and stuck to them. Launching your venture without considering their views, you did the gentlemen I’ve mentioned out of their accustomed toll, and I’ve no doubt that some of them were indignant. It’s a thing you wouldn’t expect them to sanction. Now, however, one who has probably others behind him is making overtures to you. You ought to consider it a compliment; a recognition of ability. The question is – Do you mean to slight these advances and go on as you have begun?”

“That’s my present intention,” Vane answered.

“Then you needn’t be astonished if you find yourself up against a determined opposition by and by,” said Carroll.

“I think my friends will stand by me.” Vane looked at him steadily.

“Thanks. I’ve merely been pointing out what you may expect, and hinting at the most judicious course – though the latter’s rather against my natural inclinations. I’d better add that I’ve never been particularly prudent, and the opposite policy appeals to me. If we’re forced to clear for action, we’ll nail the flag to the mast.”

It was spoken lightly; because the man was serious, but Vane knew he had an ally who would support him with unflinching staunchness.

“I’m far from sure it will be needful,” he replied, and they talked about other matters until they strolled off to their rooms.

They spent the next week in the city, where Vane was kept occupied; after which they sailed once more for the north; and pushed inland until they were stopped by snow among the ranges, without finding the spruce. The journey proved as toilsome as the previous one, and both the men were worn out when they reached the coast. Vane was determined on making a third attempt, but he informed Carroll that they would visit the mine before proceeding to Vancouver. They had heavy rain during the voyage down the Strait, and when on the day after reaching port, the jaded horses they had hired plodded up the sloppy trail to the mine, a pitiless deluge once more poured down on them.

The light was growing dim among the dripping firs, and a deep-toned roar came throbbing across their shadowy ranks. By and by Vane; who was leading, turned and glanced back at Carroll.

“I’ve never heard the river so plainly before,” he said. “It must be unusually swollen.”

Since the mine was situated on a narrow level flat between the hillside and the river, Carroll understood the anxiety in his comrade’s voice; and urging the wearied horses they pressed on a little faster. It was almost dark when they reached the edge of an opening in the firs, and saw a cluster of iron-roofed, wooden buildings and a tall chimney stack, in front of which the unsightly ore-dump extended. Wet and chilled and worn out as the men were, there was comfort in the sight; but Vane noticed that a shallow lake stretched between him and the buildings. On one side of it there was a broad strip of tumbling foam, which rose and fell in confused upheavals and filled the forest with the roar it made. Vane drove his horse into the water, and dismounting among the stumps before the ore-dump, found a wet and soil-stained man awaiting him. A long trail of smoke floated away from the iron stack behind him, and through the sound of the river there broke the clank and thud of hard-driven pumps.

“You have got a big head of steam up, Salter,” he said.

The man nodded. “We want it. It’s taking me all my time to keep the water out of the workings. Leave your horses – I’ll send along for them – and I’ll show you what we’ve been doing after supper.”

“I’d sooner go now, while I’m wet,” Vane answered.

They went down into the mine. The approach looked like a canal, and they descended the shallow shaft amidst a thin cascade. The tunnel they reached slanted, for the lode dipped, and the lights that twinkled here and there among the timbering showed shadowy, half-naked figures toiling in water which rose well up their boots. Further streams of it ran in from fissures, and Vane’s face grew grave as he plodded through the flood with a lamp in his hand. He spent an hour in the workings, asking Salter a question now and then, and afterwards went back with him to one of the sheds, where he dressed in dry clothes and sat down to a meal.

When it was over and the table had been cleared, he lay in a canvas chair beside the stove, in which resinous billets snapped and crackled cheerfully. The deluge roared upon the iron roof; the song of the river rose and fell, filling the place with sound; and now and then the pounding and clanking of the pumps broke in.

Vane examined the sheet of figures Salter handed him. Then he carefully turned over some of the pieces of stone the table was partly covered with.

“There’s no doubt those specimens aren’t so promising, and the cost of extraction is going up,” he said at length. “I’ll have a talk with Nairn when I get back, but in the meanwhile it looks as if we were going to have trouble with the water.”

“It’s a thing I’ve been afraid of for some time,” Salter answered. “We can keep down any leakage that comes in through the rocks, though it means driving the pumps hard, but an inrush from the river would beat us.”

Vane let the matter drop, and an hour later he retired to his wooden berth. In a few minutes he was fast asleep, but was awakened by a shrill note, which he recognised as the whistle of the engine. It was sounding the alarm, and next moment he was struggling into his clothing; then the door swung open and Salter stood in the entrance, lantern in hand, with water trickling from him. There was keen anxiety in his expression.

“Flood’s lapping the bank top now,” he said. “There’s a jamb in the narrow place at the head of the rapid, and the water’s backing up. I’m going along with the boys.”

He vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, and Vane dragged on his jacket. If the mine were drowned, operations might be stopped for a considerable time. What was more, it would precipitate a crisis in the affairs of the company and necessitate an increase of its capital, which he would sooner avoid.

He was outside in less than a minute and stood still looking about him, while the deluge lashed his face and beat his clothing against his limbs. He could only make out a blurred mass of climbing trees on one side, and a strip of foam cutting through the black level which he supposed was water, in front of him. His trained ears, however, gave him a little information, for the clamour of the flood was broken by a sharp snapping and crashing, which he knew was made by driftwood driving furiously against the boulders. In that region, the river banks are encumbered here and there with great logs, partly burned by forest fires, reaped by gales, or brought down from the hill-sides by falls of frost-loosened soil. A flood higher than usual sets them floating, and on subsiding sometimes leaves them packed in a gorge or stranded in a shallow to wait for the next big rise. Now they were driving down and, as Salter had said, jambing at the head of the rapid.

Suddenly a column of fierce white radiance leaped up lower down-stream and Vane knew that a big compressed air lamp had been carried to the spot where the driftwood was gathering. Even at a distance, the brightness of the glare dazzled him, so that he could see nothing else when he headed towards it. He collided with a fir stump and struck it with his knee, and in another minute the splashing about his feet warned him that he was entering the water. Having no wish to walk into the main stream, he floundered to one side. He was, however, getting nearer to the blaze, and by and by he made out a swarm of figures scurrying about beneath it. Some of them had saws or axes, for he caught the gleam of steel, and broke into a run; and presently Carroll, whom he had forgotten, came up, calling to him.

CHAPTER XX – THE FLOOD

When he reached the blast lamp, which was raised on a tall tripod, Vane stood with his back to the pulsating blaze while he grasped the details of a somewhat impressive scene. A little up-stream of him the river leaped out of the darkness, breaking into foaming waves, and a wall of dripping firs flung back the roar it made, the first rows of serried trunks standing out hard and sharp in the fierce white light. Nearer where he stood, a projecting spur of rock narrowed in the river, which boiled tumultuously against its foot, while about half-way across the top of a giant boulder rose above the flood.

Vane could only just see it, because a mass of driftwood, which was momentarily growing, stretched from bank to bank. A big log, drifting down sideways, had brought up upon the boulder and once fixed had seized and held fast each succeeding trunk. Some had been driven partly out upon those that had preceded them; some had been drawn beneath the latter, and catching the bottom had jambed. Then the rest had been wedged by the current into the gathering mass; trunks, branches, and brushwood all finding a place. When the stream is strong, a jamb, as it is called, usually extends downwards, as well as rises, as the water it pens back increases in depth, until it forms a solid barrier from surface to bed. If it occurs during a log-drive, the river is choked with lumber. Bent figures were at work with axes at the shoreward end of the mass; others had crawled out along the logs, in search of another point where they could advantageously be attacked; but Vane, watching them with practised eyes, decided that they were largely throwing their toil away. Next, he glanced down-stream; but powerful as the light was, it did not pierce far into the darkness and the rain, and the mad white rush of the rapid vanished abruptly into the surrounding gloom. Then he caught the clink of a hammer on a drill, and seeing Salter not far away strode towards him.

“How are you getting to work?” he asked.

Salter pointed to the foot of the rock they stood upon. “I reckoned if we could put a shot in yonder, we might cut out stone enough to clear the butts of the larger logs that are keying up the jamb.”

“You’re wasting time – starting at the wrong place.”

“It’s possible, but what am I to do? I’d sooner split that boulder or chop down to the king log there, but the boys can’t get across.”

“I think I could,” Vane answered. “I’ll try, if it’s necessary.”

Salter expostulated, “I want to point out that you’re the boss director of this company. I don’t know what you’re making out of it, but you can hire men to do the kind of work you think of undertaking for three dollars a day.”

“We’ll let the boys try it, if they’re willing.” Vane raised his voice. “Are any of you open to earn twenty dollars? I’ll pay that to the man who’ll put a stick of giant-powder in yonder boulder, and another twenty to whoever can find the king log and chop it through.”

Three or four of them crept cautiously along the driftwood bridge. It heaved and worked beneath them; the foam sluiced across it, and the stream forced the thinner tops of shattered trees above the barrier. It was obvious that the men were risking life and limb, and there was a cry from the rest when one of them went down and momentarily disappeared. He scrambled to his feet again, but those behind him stopped, bracing themselves against the stream, knee-deep in rushing froth. Most of them had followed rough and dangerous occupation in the bush; but they were not professional river-Jacks trained to high proficiency in log-driving, and one turning shouted to the watchers on the bank.

“This jamb’s not solid,” he explained. “She’s working open and shutting; and you can’t tell where the breaks are.” He stooped and rubbed his leg, and Vane understood him to add: “Figured I had it smashed.”

Vane swung round towards Carroll, who was standing close by. “We give them a lead.”

Salter ventured another remonstrance: “Stay where you are. How are you going to manage if the boys can’t tackle the thing?”

“They haven’t as much at stake as I have,” was Vane’s reply. “I’m a director of the company as you pointed out. Give me two sticks of giant-powder, some fuse, and detonators.”

After cramming the blasting material into his pocket, Vane called to Carroll: “Are you coming with me?”

“Since I can’t stop you, I suppose I’d better go,” Carroll replied.

They sprang down the bank. Vane crawled out on the working timber, with Carroll, who carried a heavy hammer, a few feet behind him. The perilous bridge they traversed groaned beneath their feet, but they had joined the other men before they came to any particularly troublesome opening. Then the cluster of wet figures was brought up by a gap filled with leaping foam, in the midst of which brushwood swung to and fro and projecting branches ground on one another. Whether there was solid timber a foot or two beneath, or only the entrance to some cavity by which the stream swept through the barrier, there was nothing to show, but Vane set his lips and jumped. He alighted on something that bore him, and when the others followed, floundering and splashing, the deliberation which had hitherto characterised their movements suddenly deserted them. They had reached the limit beyond which it was no longer useful.

When they had crossed the gap, Vane and those behind him blundered on in hot fury. They had risen to the demand on them, and the curious psychic change had come; now they must achieve success or face annihilation. But in this there was nothing unusual; it is the alternative offered to many a log-driver, miner, and sailor-man.

Neither Vane nor Carroll, nor any of those who assisted them, had any clear recollection of what they did. Somehow they reached the boulder; somehow they plied axe or iron-hooked peevie, while the unstable, foam-lapped platform rocked beneath their feet. Every movement entailed a peril no one could calculate, but they savagely toiled on. When Vane began to swing a hammer above a drill, or whom he got it from, he did not know, any more than he remembered when he had torn off and thrown away his jacket, though the sticks of giant-powder, which had been in his pocket, lay close by upon the stone. Sparks sprang from the drill which Carroll held and fell among the coils of snaky fuse; but that did not trouble either, and it was only when Vane was breathless that he changed places with his companion.

About them, bowed figures that breathed in stertorous gasps grappled desperately with grinding, smashing logs. Sometimes they were forced up in harsh distinctness by a dazzling glare; sometimes they faded into blurred shadows as the pulsating flame upon the bank sank a little or was momentarily blown aside; but all the while gorged veins rose on bronzed foreheads and toil-hardened muscles were taxed to the uttermost. At last, when a trunk rolled beneath him, Carroll missed a stroke and realised with a shock of dismay that it was not the drill he had brought his hammer down upon.

“I couldn’t help it,” he gasped. “Where did I hit you?”

“Get on,” Vane said hoarsely. “I can hold the drill.”

Carroll struck for a few more minutes, after which he flung down the hammer and inserted the giant-powder into the holes sunk in the stone. Next he lighted the fuse; and, warning the others, they hastily recrossed the dangerous bridge. They had reached the edge of the forest when a flash sprang up amidst the foam and a sharp crash was followed by a deafening, drawn-out uproar. Rending, grinding, smashing, the jamb broke up, hammered upon the partly shattered boulder, and carrying it away or driving over it washed in tremendous ruin down the rapid. When the wild clamour had subsided, Salter gave the men some instructions, and then as they approached the lamp noticed Vane’s reddened hand.

“That looks a nasty smash; you want to get it seen to,” he remarked.

“I’ll get it dressed at the settlement; we’ll make an early start to-morrow,” said Vane. “We were lucky in breaking the jamb; but you’ll have the same trouble over again any time a heavy flood brings down an unusual quantity of driftwood.”

“It’s what I’d expect,” agreed Salter.

“Then something will have to be done to prevent it. I’ll go into the matter when I reach the city.”

Carroll and Vane walked back to the shack, where the former bound up his comrade’s injured hand, and, after a rest, left the mine early next morning. Vane got his hand dressed when they reached the little mining town at the head of the railroad, and on the following day they arrived in Vancouver.